


Fir

by relic_amaranth



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Multi, Other, Sappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: A trip to a tree lot results in a much bigger relationship milestone. Also, Bucky and Steve are idiots. It works out pretty well for everyone involved.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 128





	Fir

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to wait to post this until tomorrow because ‘Christmas season’ and all, but in case you need something else to read today here’s a little fluffy holiday something. For folks in the US, Happy Thanksgiving! For folks not in the US, Happy Thursday!

Normally, you might find this funny. But they actually think they’re getting one over on you.

It’s almost offensive.

Sure, you may not have the most innocent blue eyes to ever blue, or the saddest pout on this side of the world, but you have a fucking brain.

“You “accidentally” bought a tree too big for my apartment?” you ask. They both nod rapidly. You stare at them. ‘Greatest tactical mind’ and ‘world’s greatest assassin’ your ass. “It has been five minutes since I lost track of you. How did you find the “perfect tree” _and_ have time to pay for it before you found me? To, you know, ask my opinion on the tree that was supposed to go in _my_ apartment?”

They are either good actors, or they feel a little bad. They are not and nor have they ever been anything resembling good actors. “Sorry,” Steve says and once more flashes you weaponized innocence. Eye lasers. They’re eye lasers. “I guess we just got excited. I mean, look at it!”

You roll your eyes. It _is_ gorgeous, full and vibrant. It must have cost a fortune. “What’s done is done. It’s huge though– will it fit in your living room?”

“Of course,” they say in unison. With such certainty only an idiot could believe this wasn’t pre-planned.

“I can just tell,” Steve says quickly. “My eyesight is really good, and we have those high ceilings.”

“Uh huh.” You’re pretty sure the serum didn’t put yardsticks in Steve’s eyes, but Steve is the only expert in the matter, and you are 99.99999% sure that actual measuring tape was involved. You can only hope they remembered to factor in a tree topper. “So much for putting it in the backseat. By the way, you two are on your own when it comes to figuring out how to get it home.”

“We’ll tie it to the roof,” Steve says.

The car is certainly big enough to handle it. But you want to see how prepared they came. “Do they sell rope or bungee cords here?”

“I’m sure we have something,” Steve says with forced nonchalance as Bucky runs off to get the car.

Sure enough, when Bucky comes back, he and Steve are able to get right to work tying the tree to the roof. “Amazing,” you say as they finish. “How you just happened to have rope hanging around in your car.”

“Always be prepared,” Steve says.

How can you resist? You grin. “Kinky.”

Steve chokes on nothing and Bucky ducks his head. “Can’t take you anywhere,” he mumbles. You laugh, because it is entirely reasonable to have rope or cords in the car (and you hope they have the good sense to keep other emergency supplies in there too) but they’re so caught up in their tree deception that they don’t seem to remember that.

“Hey,” Steve says once you’re all belted in. “Since all your boxes of ornaments are already out, we should pick them up on the way.”

“That’s a good idea,” you say. “Since the tree is so big it _had_ to go on the roof, we have all the space in the back now.”

“That works out really perfectly,” Steve says blithely, still pretty performatively cheerful as he drives off. Bucky is about to say something, with a similarly dumb smile on his face, when he looks at you and the smile loses some of its zeal. You don’t know if it’s the crossed arms or if your maxed-out bullshit meter is finally showing on your face, but Bucky quickly turns around in his seat and faces forward, stealing little glances at Steve.

You all stop by your place to grab the ornaments. All but one box, which you surreptitiously push under the coffee table with your foot. If Bucky or Steve take notice, they don’t mention it to you. The whole affair is very quiet, but you all make it to their (admittedly very nice and much more spacious) home, where they put the tree up in its stand with such ridiculous coordination you wonder if they practiced. Honestly it wouldn’t surprise you if they did (they are almost always very committed to their very dumb ideas), but they also make an incredible team, so it could be either-or.

Steve’s still in the kitchen when Bucky finishes adjusting the tree skirt and he admires it for a moment before he looks back at you. He grins and you smile. Genuinely. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” Bucky asks and flexes.

You consider. “A-minus,” you decide.

“A- _minus_?” Bucky pouts.

“It would have been better shirtless,” you say and poke him with your foot. He grabs your leg and starts kissing up it and you laugh and squirm, even though his lips only connect with your pants.

“Maybe we have enough energy to do more than just the lights tonight,” Steve says and sets down a tray filled with mugs of hot chocolate. He starts passing them out. “Bucky…me…and extra marshmallows for you.”

“Ooo.” You settle in with the mug in your comfy armchair while Steve takes the couch and Bucky stays on the floor. You blow on the steam. “Is this _guilty_ hot chocolate?” You take a sip that burns a little, but it’s worth it. “Yum.”

“Why would it be guilty?” Steve asks like he has nary a clue and only a passing curiosity, and stirs his drink like he’s rehearsing for a commercial and can’t get a natural rhythm down. Bucky ducks his head lower like he’s incredibly into his drink, but his eyes flit up and move between the two of you.

“For picking a tree too big for me,” you say and wait to see how this is going to go.

“It was an accident,” Steve says, buckling down on stubbornness like only Steve Rogers can.

Well two can play at that game, and you’re pretty sure he’s going to lose. “Yes, well.” You sigh theatrically. “It’s lovely and good for you to have. I’ll have to stop by the lot tomorrow and get a tiny one for me.”

“What?” Steve asks and even Bucky lowers his cup and licks the line of chocolate from his upper lip.

“Why do you need another one?” Bucky asks.

“Because _I_ don’t have one,” you say and lean back. “And I want a tree in my house.”

“But we have this beautiful tree here,” Steve says.

“I don’t live here,” you remind him. “Not all of the time.”

“But you could!”

Ah _ha_. However the admission doesn’t ease your annoyance– it just makes it burrow that much deeper. “I’m not going to intrude,” you say and sip.

Steve opens his mouth but a sharp hiss of his name from Bucky makes him stop and the two of them have a very intense eye discussion for several seconds– or rather, eye argument, from the sheer amount of peaks and valleys displayed by their eyebrows alone. You noisily sip your drink but it doesn’t even make them flinch, so you put the cup down. Hard. _That_ makes them break and they look at you as you stand.

“I’m going to the bathroom; I’ll be right back,” you tell them and then leave.

When you get to the bathroom you sit on the toilet lid and rest your frowning face in your hands propped up on your knees. You’re in the bathroom that you helped decorate and that doesn’t help the problem. Because you do stay here often enough that it feels like home, but any tentative brush at the subject of combining households has been swept right off the table in the last few months– sometimes harshly. You try not to let it get to you, but it does sting. Still, you’re getting used to it. You’ll go back out there and you’ll all ignore the subject was ever broached. Like always.

But it’s Christmas, and despite their complicated feelings on moving in together, you love them and they love you. And you are going to have a perfectly lovely night decorating their tree, and you’re going to get a little one for yourself, and it’s going to be nice no matter what.

You come out of the bathroom and stop just before you enter the living room proper. The tree is halfway wrapped in lights, from the bottom up, and where they stop there is a circle made out of the cord to draw attention to a card propped loosely in the middle.

You look at Bucky and Steve, both sitting on the couch like they can’t imagine what kind fairy could have possibly done this. You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile. Most people would never believe you if you told them what morons those two can be. That must be why Sam and Natasha are your best friends.

You pluck the envelope off the tree and lift it up and down. It’s heavier than standard cardstock and not completely flat at the bottom. There’s something other than Hallmark in there.

“Why don’t you come over here and open it?” Bucky says and pats the open cushion between them. You plop down in the seat, and warmth surrounds you when they rest their heads on your shoulders. You open the envelope, pull out the card (very pretty, hand-drawn by Steve, going on your fridge for sure), and then you reach in to pull out the mysterious object.

It’s a key.

You stare at it, metal shining in the light and slightly cold against your skin. You run your finger up the teeth of it and inhale suddenly. “Wh– really?”

“We wanted to wait for Christmas, but it’s close enough, right?” Steve wraps his arms around your middle. “But yes: we want you to move in with us. It’s okay if you don’t want to, if you feel like it’s too soon–”

“It’s not and I want– I thought–” You breathe. “I thought you didn’t want to. You always change the subject–”

“We’ve been planning this for two months; we didn’t want to spring it early,” Bucky says and nuzzles you. “You know how shit Steve is at keeping a secret like that.” He leans over you to glare at Steve. “‘ _But you could_ ,’” he mocks.

“Shut up.” Steve tightens his hold around you and pushes his face into your shoulder.

“Well,” you say, smiling as you close your fist around the key. _Your_ key. “Steve does have a point. There’s no point in getting another tree when I have a perfectly good one at home.”

Steve sits up and they both lean over to look at you expectantly. “I love you both so much and of course I want to live with you,” you say. “But I want it on the record that you are the shittiest liars I have ever known in my life.”

Bucky huffs and Steve laughs. “Only because we can’t hide anything from you, sweetheart,” Bucky says and pulls you into his arms. Steve follows, because of course he does, and you lay there, content to ignore what a fucking pain it’s going to be to have to move. But you have at least another month before your lease is up and you have two of the strongest men you know to help (with at least three friends who are also strong who can be easily bribed with pizza) and at the end of it you are going to be home, with Bucky, and Steve, right in the one place you always feel you belong.

“…The key is nice and all but please tell me your security system code is easy to memorize.”

“You can make your own, only needs to be four numbers,” Bucky says and kisses your head.

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh thank goodness.”

“1234 is _not_ an acceptable passcode.”

“Aw _man_.”


End file.
